Another Gay Movie is definitely not your brother’s sex comedy, although it is molded in the same vein as such genre stalwarts as American Pie. What that movie did for apple pie this one does for quiche – it makes you unable to look at quiche the same way again.

And that’s the charm that infuses Another Gay Movie, which turns the table on the tried-and-true “gotta get laid” cinematic formula. It does so with a knowing wink, but remains true to form by not shying away from the gross-out humor of its straight predecessors; even the horror classic Carrie gets sent up.

If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then the makers of past genre directors should indeed be flattered.

The movie comes off as a homage of sorts, as it follows the exploits of four fresh-out-of-high-school boys (the jock, Jonathan Chase; the nerd, Mitch Morris; the bottom-curious one, Michael Carbonaro; and “Miss Thing,” Jonah Blechman) and their quest to score before the summer ends.

For those of us who willingly sat through Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Porky’s hoping to catch just a glimpse of the male anatomy, Another Gay Movie delivers the goods in spades (although, in fairness, Porky’s did have its fair share).

Along the way, there are some familiar gay faces, like popular BBC personality Graham Norton, Scott Thompson from “Kids in the Hall,” drag queen Lypsinka, porn star Matthew Rush, former “Boy Meets Boy” star James Getzlaff, Darryl Stephens of “Noah’s Arc” and even the nude “Survivor” Richard Hatch, sans pixilation (you have been warned).

The only drawback is the lesbian character, only because of the way her character is written and the way the “actress” (Ashlie Atkinson) portrays her – abrasive as a Brillo Pad on a newborn’s skin. But she is counterbalanced by the scene-stealing, Minnesota-accented mom (Bonnie McVay), who is a hoot.

Director Todd Stephens (Edge of Seventeen and Gypsy 83) has created something of a hybrid movie that lampoons some elements of gay culture while presenting gay as the norm. It’s good, not-so-clean fun that delivers some belly laughs.

Superman Returns is disappointing on so many levels that it halted my interest in watching it faster than a speeding bullet and more powerful than a locomotive. And therein lays the problem: Part of the dilemma of Superman Returns is it is haunted by the ghosts of Superman past.

While newcomer Brandon Routh looks the part, it is obvious he wanted to make his version of Superman an “acting homage” to the late Christopher Reeve. Unfortunately, he just comes off as a paler version. As a matter of fact, the whole movie seems to rely on the “old” Superman movies like a wounded man would a crutch; the movie hobbles along in a feeble attempt to recapture movie magic but unable to stand on its own two legs. Superman Returns comes off as schlocky, from the familiar opening title credits to a special appearance by the late Marlon Brando as Jor-El.

Superman Returns is far too interested in reintroducing a cinematic hero to a new generation than putting its own unique stamp on him. Director Bryan Singer, of the first two X-Men, should really have had a better handle on this movie, which clocks in at close to three hours, yet contains only a few scenes of Superman performing heroic acts.

Aside from the casting of look/sound-alike Routh as the Man of Steel and his nebbish altar ego, Clark Kent, there is Kate Bosworth’s take on Lois Lane to contend with. Never has a role been so miscast. Bosworth comes off as too soft when Lois Lane should be intrepid and strong. Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor does what he can within the limits of his role. Thank god for Parker Posey as Luthor’s girlfriend, Kitty. At least she injects some energy into her role.

Hopefully, the reported sequel will learn from the mistakes made on this first attempt to get the Superman franchise up, up, and away off the ground again. This one landed with a resounding thud.

In case you were living under a gay rock this summer, you can now rent The Devil Wears Prada. That’s all.